Clint woke with a start when the door to his cell opened. Knowing better than to open his eyes and show the intruder he was awake, Clint played possum and stayed still. Yet as he stayed still his mind was racing and his thoughts were ricocheting off the sides of his skull.

What, more accurately, who is in my cell?

Why are they here?

No one should be in here, that's the point of solitary condiment, to limit human contact.

Who?

Director Fury?

Maybe the guard finally realized who I am and decided I need to be taught a lesson. There is no way I could defend myself if that happened.

Clint never thought his heart could beat any faster, but nothing beat how it almost tore through his chest cavity when the stranger chuckled.

That laugh, he knew it. That deep, sugar coated voice had haunted him for months and made Clint suppress a scream. Clint's fear only seemed to delight the stranger.

"Oh Clint," The intruder sighed. "Haven't we been through enough for me to tell when you are faking your sleep?" The stranger leaned down and put his lips right next to Clint's ear. It took every inch of Clint's willpower not to move. " But I must say your fear is absolutely delectable, this is how you should be, scared, broken and kneeling."

Cold fingers traced down Clint's face and settled right on his heart.

"I can feel that you are scared, and not just by the way that tiny heart is beating. That link, our link, was never really severed. Your little red headed weapon thinks that she saved you, but all she did was put you back in the driver's seat, I was always still in the car. Watching you, waiting for the best moment, for the moment when you were on your knees and you were holding onto a single shred of hope, that was the best time for me to come back. The best time for me to take back my little toy soldier and wind up the key. Are you ready little Hawk?"

Clint couldn't do it anymore, he couldn't not know if it was real. Going against his better judgement, Clint opened his eyes and he was met by a set of crazed green eyes.

Loki.

"See? There we go Barton, there is no need to be afraid, I only want my friend back."

From seemingly out of nowhere Loki lifted a long spear of gold, the tip was pointed and pulsing a faint blue. The sceptre. Clint was certain he was going to throw up his oatmeal.

"How do you have that?" He gasped out.

"Oh this old thing?" Loki turned it over in his hands the way a child would a newly found stick. "It's one of the perks of being king."

"King?"

"Oh yes, King of Asgard." A small smile formed on Loki's lips as he flashed gold for a moment. Then like Loki had disappeared a old man with unruly white hair, fancy clothing and a gold eye patch stood in front of Clint. It lasted only a second before Loki flashed back into view, when he did his brow was dotted with sweat and his face was missing some colour.

Clint frowned at this, why was Loki so put out by a rather simple trick?

Loki, seeming as if he had read Clint's thoughts gave a heartless laugh.

"Worried about me Barton?"

"Never."

"I'm fine, it's just been so long since I've used magic on earth and it takes some getting used to. Even with the Tesseract."

Clint's heart rate spiked again. How did Loki get the Tesseract?

"I thought it was in Asgard?" His voice came out weak.

"Just like the rest of the realms you are too easy to lure into ignorance. No one bats an eye when Odin takes the Tesseract out of the treasury." Loki looked way too pleased with himself.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because who are you going to tell? Maybe I just want you to feel ignored and powerless, like how I felt in Thor's shadow. Who won't dismiss me as insanity setting in? But then again, what if I am?" Loki had a dark smile spreading across his face.

"I could become any of your nightmares." With these words Loki disappeared to be replaced by Trickshot, Clint's old mentor turned traitor.

"How do you know if anything is real?" Loki asked, his voice sounding to all the world exactly like Trickshot.

"What if your entire world has been an illusion? Has anybody ever really loved you? Is everyone you care about a sham?" Loki switched back to himself, his hair now a bit shaggier and his skin a bit paler. For the lack of a better word he looked haggard, but it didn't seem to slow him down.

Clint didn't know what to say, his mind was spinning and Loki's words rung through his head like a chorus of unrelenting bells. He didn't know the answer to Loki's questions, not anymore. Has everything that happened to him been fake?

Have I been in this cell all along?

Have I imagined everything since the battle of New York?

Is anything real?

Natasha, in the vents earlier today, was she real?

Aries and the circus, were they all figments drifting through my head?

Bucky. Did I imagine Bucky?

No, he has to be real. I couldn't have made him up. Clint was pleading with himself now, begging himself to believe that it wasn't all a trick of the mist. He was begging himself to believe there was something left to live for.

"Stop lying to me, you cold hearted snake." Clint ground out.

"Lying to you?" Loki tutted. "I guess it makes sense, I am the god of lies, how about you hear it from someone who would never lie to you."

Clint didn't like where this was going but before he even had a chance to object, Loki had disappeared again.

And in his place was the man that had taken him under his wing after he got in too deep and made him something worthwhile at one time.

Coulson.

"Phi- Coulson." Clint scrabbled to reach him and a fraction his brain howled at him to stop, that this wasn't his Coulson. His Coulson was dead, all this was was one of the mischief god's cruel tricks.

But he couldn't help it, Clint drown that voice out. It had been so long since he had even heard Coulson's name he couldn't help but move toward him.

"Clint," Coulson sounded relieved, like it had been days since he had seen a friendly face. The former handler took a shuffle step forward- then froze.

Clint heard an audible and sickening squelching noise, and he instantly knew it. He had caused that sound too many times, it was the sound of a weapon being thrust into someone's chest cavity.

N-no, it can't be.

A small river of blood dripped from the corner of Coulson's open mouth.

Not Coulson.

Clint rushed forward, closing the distance between Coulson and himself as Coulson started to crumple to the floor. Rapping his arms around Coulson, Clint let them stumble to the floor. Blood from Coulson's open wound stained Clint's shirt as he clung to him for dear life.

"Clint." Coulson rasped as he coughed, a splatter of red coming out along with his words.

"Coulson? I'm right here." Clint was holding back his tears, yet a few were threatening to spill over and blur his vision.

"Y-you could've saved me." Coulson wheezed. "You are weak. You don't deserve the name H-Hawkeye. You are just a cowardly, u-useless child. Y-you aren't an Avenger."

With those words Coulson's chest stopped it's frantic breathes.

Clint hugged Coulson's body closer, not caring as blood soaked all his clothes to the bone.

"I-I know Coulson." Clint was full out sobbing like a child. "I'm s-orry. I tried my best. I'm not an Avenger, I'm not a hero. I'm a coward and stupid and worthless."

Suddenly a laugh interrupted his pleas.

"Glad we agree on something Barton. I'll be back soon, have fun going mad." Loki's voice echoed in the cage.

In Clint's arms, Coulson's cold body dissolved like sand in the wind. Leaving Clint alone on the hard, bloody floor.

Clint couldn't summon the energy to move, his world had be taped together and ripped apart some many times he didn't know which way was up.

Was this the way Bucky felt? Clint wondered as his eyes drifted shut.

Usually he battled sleep, trying to stay awake as long as possible to avoid the nightmares, but tonight he welcomed it with open arms. Because no nightmare could be as bad as his waking one.

He hoped.

__________________________

Natasha made her way soundlessly through the vents towards Clint's cell.

She had already visited Bucky and had given him Steve's reply to his letter, written a response and reassured him a hundred times that she lied to Steve about how bad he actually was getting.

It hadn't been hard to lie to Steve about Bucky, not really. In fact the lies would hurt him less than the truths. Except Natasha was still worried, Tony had been working on tapping in the camera feeds to the cells and if that happened Steve would be able to see for himself how Bucky was doing.

Natasha also didn't want to tell him that Bucky was actually declining frightening fast.

He was getting skinny, not dangerously skinny but it was still too fast for Natasha's liking. It was like he couldn't eat enough with his mouth shredded and branded. He had new bruises and a couple small cuts, but that was nothing new. It was the weight he was losing that really stressed Natasha out. If they couldn't find a way to break Clint and Bucky out soon, Bucky may not be able to move fast enough or with enough balance to get away.

These thoughts depressed her.

Hoping to make herself feel a little better, Natasha stopped at Clint's vent. A chat with Clint should lighten her spirits, at least it used to make her feel better. Yet the second she looked down through the grate she knew she was wrong.

Clint was curled into himself on the floor. There were food trays at the door, all untouched, Clint hadn't moved in a while.

Putting away her fears, Natasha gathered herself up and called quietly down to Clint.

__________________________

Clint was jarred awake by someone calling his name.

"Natasha?" His voice was hoarse from disuse.

"Hey Clint, you doing okay?"

"I don't know." Clint answered honestly, he didn't know if he was alright anymore. He didn't know anything anymore for sure.

A string tugged in the back of his mind; was Natasha real?

Clint looked down at his shirt, the blood that had stained the fabric was gone.

Did I imagine Loki and Coulson?

There was no real answer, so Clint decided it was better to shoot straight and get it over with.

"Are you real?" Clint murmured, barely hearing himself.

"Huh? I can't hear you, stop mumbling. I may not be deaf like you, but my hearing ain't that great either way." She said this lightly, but only to hide her nerves.

"Are you real?" Clint got a little louder.

"Speak up."

"Are. You. Real. Natasha. Romanov?" Clint but bite behind each word, making them come out clear and concise.

This hit Natasha harder than any bullet. Clint didn't now if she was real, he was going insane faster than she thought.

"Yah, Clint I'm real. I'm your Nat." Natasha stated it simply, but on the inside she was sobbing.

"How do I know this for sure?" Clint sounded like a nervous child, so unlike the loud and funny Clint she had learned to see.

Natasha thought for a moment, how could she show Clint that she wasn't a figment of his imagination? Then a memory flashed through Natasha's mind and she almost laughed.

"Feel about a centimeter below you left collarbone, do you feel about twelve little scars?" Natasha asked.

"Yah."

"You got those when you fell through the vent into Coulson's office and landed on his desk. I was in the middle of a long debriefing and you couldn't wait to find out what was going on so you snuck into the vents. The vent above Coulson's desk had recently been cleaned and not completely latched in place, when you put a little weight on it, it came out. Sending you toppling into the desk and putting a handful of staples in your chest. I know this because I was there and I was the one who pulled the staples out of you collarbone. Do you remember?"

Clint nodded rubbing the spot at the memory. "I remember that, god that hurt. I'm sorry I doubted you."

Natasha didn't say anything to that, Clint seemed to believe she was really here so there was no point pushing the matter. Instead she checked her watch and cursed.

"I need to get going Clint, I'll see you soon."

"See you soon." Clint said this but didn't seem so sure of it. "I love you Nat."

Natasha didn't reply again, that felt to much like they were saying goodbye. This wasn't going to be goodbye, Natasha wasn't going to let it be the end of them.

Turning to crawl down the vent Natasha felt the paper in her pocket shift and she remembered.

"Oh Clint, I have a message for you from Bucky."

"Bucky?" Clint sounded confused.

"You know Clint, long hair, metal arm?" Natasha silently pleaded for Clint to know who that was, to know he hadn't imagined Bucky.

Clint smiled weakly. "Oh...yah."

"He wanted me to tell you that saving your sorry butt was the best decision he's made in seventy years."

This made Clint laugh a little.

"Tell that sentimental lump that I've saved his rear more times than I can count, so we are even."

"I'll tell him that." With that Natasha slunk off down the vents leaving Clint alone.

For a moment their was blissful silence, such beautiful silence that Clint almost let himself believe he was alone, then the voice started talking.

"I thought that muling quim would never leave. Come on Clint, lets have some fun."

Clint didn't even have time to scream before the nightmare enveloped him.

__________________________

Natasha didn't waste a second once she was out of the vents, she made a beeline for Bruce.

"You need to hurry up your planning!" She all but screeched.

"What's going on Natasha?" Steve asked, drawn over by Natasha's shouts. Tony noticing the potential for a fight, tagged along as well.

"We need to get Clint and Bucky out of there soon, and when I mean soon I mean yesterday. Clint is going insane, he won't last much longer."

Steve darkened. "Is this true, Tony? Could he dissolve so quickly?"

"He shouldn't be, but with those cells almost all our math has been guesswork. We have no real answer of how long he should last." Tony looked grim.

"I'm sorry Natasha, I've worked for days and have no idea how to get them out. I not even sure it's possible anymore." Bruce out his head in his hands.

__________________________

Bruce wasn't all the way telling the truth when he said he had no idea how to free Clint and Bucky, except he wished he was.

His plan was something he had promised he would never do, yet here he was.

Bruce took one last look at the dark wood door in front of him and gave it a push to open.

Inside he was greeted by the tall man lounged like a cat behind the desk.

"Hello Dr.Banner, had you come to threaten me like the rest of the avengers did?"

"No, Director Fury. I'm here to make a bargain."

A/N)

I've run out of ways to say sorry, so I hope this chapter will work. My life has gotten super busy because all my teachers are pushing for exams and my second basketball season is starting so I'm going every which way. Updates may get even more spotty, but I'll try my best. Please help me out by commenting with suggestions or ideas to keep me motivated. Thank you all so much for sticking with me this far. Sorry again,

Brokenrook